By Jack Cawthon|
If a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, better be extra careful crossing the street! If you are like me, and I can only hope you aren't, then you know too much and it gets more dangerous constantly.
The present age has experienced a knowledge explosion. But maybe better described as a nuclear detonation. (We didn't know from nuclear until scientists caught us by surprise by blowing up Japan, now did we.)
In years past when we didn't know better, wasn't there some fun-filled suspense thinking there were little green men, and women probably, trooping around Mars? (Just to make certain there aren't, NASA has another probe on the way.) And what about the man in the moon and its makeup of cheese? I haven't been the same since the Santa myth was exposed to me along about the fourth grade. (I was a slow learner from the holler arrived in the big city of smart kids, all above average.)
My point is that we are getting so loaded--and that's how some people cope with it--that all this information is too much to process by the human brain, but it doesn't have to, as, lo, we have cyber brains to aid, and here I pause because I don't know download about that.
But there is one hot topic now on the forefront of knowledge that I do know about: dark matter. Scientists are ecstatic about discovering dark matter, dark energy or dark something that makes up the universe. They think they have discovered it, but can't see it. Well, maybe because it's dark? Duh!
Someone like me who grew up in a dead end holler with steep hills on three sides and a run, or crick, the only outlet became immersed early on by more dark matter than light matter. We called it night.
And had I continued my pursuit begun in college I might now be one of the leading experts on the subject.
While attending Glenville State, I worked for over three years in dark matter: I was called a night watchman.
(I always refer to "attending college" as I learned early on that attendance is 90 percent of any endeavor. My record bears this out: 90 percent class attendance; 10 percent study.)
Casey Jones, the tight-fisted financial manager for the college, was known for careful spending, but he was more than kind in providing me with much needed employment. And the one job among several I worked, including janitorial, was filling in for the college watchman on weekends and holidays.
I loved the night, or dark energy, if you must. That job was the best one I have ever had and probably the one I have been most qualified to fill. Had I only stayed with it...Well, we all have our regrets!
I would walk forth into the dark carrying a large, seldom used, flashlight and a time clock where at a visit to each building I would insert a key into the clock which punched a paper disk, showing that I had been there.
The most enjoyable times were when the students were on vacation and it was just me, deserted campus, and, of course, lots of dark matter. But when the students returned, distractions became plentiful. Surrounded by dark matter, in my own world, suddenly a light would shatter the effect. Nine times out of ten, although I never counted, it would shine from an open window in the women's dorm and some female would be parading around in a state of less than dress. Not that I ever looked, mind you, because I was a dedicated watcher of the night and was raised as a good Methodist. (I may have missed a lot in college besides study.)
Strong light can be most disturbing to a student of the dark. When my college career came to an end I moved on to what some people may call another dark profession: journalism.
So scientists think they have discovered the building blocks of the universe, even though they can't see it. Some are calling it the "God particle." Maybe that was what Adam and Eve discovered and look what happened to them!
As I have said about a little knowledge, too much might be like a nuclear reaction. And poof! We all are turned back into dark matter.